After 2 early pregnancy losses within a few months, I became pregnant again with high hopes. In February 2017, my husband and I were so scared but blessed and so excited at the same time to finally have the luxury of being parents. At my first appointment, I was 6 weeks pregnant. I was so terrified waiting on the doctor to come in to do my ultrasound. After having such bad luck with my other 2 pregnancies (one chemical and one blighted ovum), I was so full of hope. [I was] praying continuously for a heartbeat. I saw the flicker before my doctor could even measure the baby’s heart beat. I began to cry with joy.

We were so happy. Her heartbeat was 109 bpm, strong and healthy! I went in routinely as this was a high risk pregnancy because of the recurrent losses I’ve suffered. Everything was perfect. At 7 weeks, my baby was able to move around (couldn’t feel her yet) but we could see it on the screen at every appointment; she was very active. No problems at all. She grew fast. I had severe morning sickness up until I was 12 weeks. I went in for my NT scan. She was wiggling everywhere. She wouldn’t sit still for the scan, lol. My perfect active baby! I was so happy, happier than I’d ever been. I also had bloodwork done to check the baby for genetic defects, down syndrome and to find out the gender. The scan came back at 14 weeks, negative for any defects and I was told we were expecting a healthy and happy BABY GIRL!!! I was over the moon excited.

We had bought and set up her crib, started collecting clothes and blankets and diapers. My appointments had then been spaced out because we thought everything was okay…

Three months ago today, my whole world turned upside down. I went in at 18 weeks for a normal OB appointment to find out my daughter’s heart was no longer beating. The next day I was sent into labor and delivery to give birth to my sleeping beauty. When it came time to deliver her, I felt a need to push. After informing my doctor, she allowed me to push. I had pushed out huge clots and blood, no baby yet. I pushed again and my daughter made her arrival on 5/28/17 at 1:20 am. She weighed 0.37 lbs and was 4.5 inches of pure beauty. Her placenta had separated and broke off of her umbilical cord. The doctor seemed a little concerned, but I had nothing more on my mind at that point than my beautiful baby girl.

Another doctor came in a few moments later and told me he was going to try and remove the placenta with a few tools. It was as painful as the birth I had just given. Yet, all I could think about was my sweet baby girl would no longer be growing inside me, no longer would I feel her tiny kicks, everything her dad and I had planned for her– gone. A few minutes passed by and my doctor told me that a DNC would need to be performed after I had some time to rest to remove the growth and placenta and stop the bleeding. I had lost 2/3 of my blood at that point.

I woke the next morning with my sweet girl in a small woven basket beside me and I held her for as long as I could, kissed he little head before it was time to send her to the funeral home where we had her cremated. It was mid-morning when the doctors came to take me back for surgery. I was TERRIFIED. As if I had not just experienced the worst trauma in my life. My mind was completely jumbled. All I wanted was to go back to my baby and my husband. The surgery lasted about 2 hours or so. I was sent to an ultrasound room to make sure everything was completely removed. I slept the entire time.

A few weeks later, I was told by my OB that it was a partial molar pregnancy and the placental growth was the size of a 40 week term. The pregnancy was never meant to be normal. He explained all the details and all the steps we would need to take to ensure that no placental tissue or molar tissue was left inside to reattach and grow back into a cancerous form. For about a month, I felt miserable. I couldn’t stand or walk around. I could barely take care of myself, not to mention the state of depression I was in. I became severely anemic and was diagnosed with heart palpitations. If I made any sudden movements, I’d feel faint. I had severe panic attacks every single day for weeks. I felt like I was dying. It is 3 months postpartum. I feel better physically now. I’ll always miss my daughter; that has not changed. I’m healing slowly but surely.